Anything to Feel
by Belladonna-Veilsin
Summary: It was like being a ghost, with the physical world not quite reaching him. Frank takes a hit for Red, and Red takes him home where Frank finds out that Red is his blind lawyer and a damn mind-reading magic ninja.Of course, Red is also the only person who can make Frank feel again. Fratt RedCastle
1. Chapter 1

**Fratt/RedCastle makes me happy. This is set after Daredevil Season 2 and before the Defenders and Punisher. Although it maybe assumes that Frank killed every last member of the gangs that killed his family. Just, instead of working construction and trying to be a normal guy, he went back to Hell's Kitchen to gun down violent criminals. Because we all know which of those two Frank finds more satisfying.**

 **Idiopathic neuropathy is the inability to feel tactile sensations. I did some basic research, and then I gave it my best guess/made it up. Ergo, I make no claims to medical legit-ness. XP I had this idea for a while, but when I started to rewatch Haven, Nathan's Trouble triggered me to actually type this out.**

(-)

Frank woke up on someone's couch. He knew that because he could see the couch. The problem was that he couldn't _feel_ the couch.

He couldn't feel anything. There was a terrifying void around him, sucking away reality except for periphery bits. He could smell coffee. He could taste some herbal shit flavor that he didn't remember drinking. He could smell the freshly laundered blanket covering him.

And, oh, a glance to his right showed him the Devil of Hell's Kitchen sitting in an armchair and staring at him. "What the fuck, Red?" The grumble wasn't very fearsome as Frank tried to sit up, only his body didn't seem to work like it should. He could barely lift his torso, and it just slumped to his left, further into the couch.

"Can you feel anything yet, Frank?" was the calm reply he got.

"You bastard. What the fuck did you do to me?" Frank seethed and tried again. He was working blind, unable to feel his body moving, but his muscles weren't completely shot to shit. Except they were, as he again seemed to suddenly lose his ability to move properly, flopping to his right and falling headfirst off the couch.

He didn't hit the floor. For a moment it was like he was suspended. But then he saw that Red had caught him. He growled, but his next words were lost as Red spoke after he tucked Frank back onto the couch.

"I didn't do this _to you_ , Frank. You _saved me_ from it. You don't remember?" Red's voice was soft and almost reverent. Jesus, the kid was never going to stop preaching about the good in him now.

But given something other than the void to focus on, Frank did start to remember. There were painted horses and ruined faces lingering, but that was just a fact of life. It started when he ran into Red; well, when Red ran into him fists-first to make his life difficult.

Frank could have picked a different area of New York to operate from, but, a truth he wouldn't admit to anyone, he actually enjoyed the company of the Devil. Even if he was an annoying sanctimonious shit who wanted to stop Frank at every encounter, Red made things interesting. Beating the shit out of each other, trying to plan to stay under his radar long enough to get things done; it was all new, a new routine and individual that settled itself as "normal" in Frank's fractured brain. When so much was carousels and screaming children, a familiar masked face with accompanying banter and flying fists was welcome to take the more prominent parts of Frank's thoughts.

After they started fighting, someone else wanted in. Something whizzed past Red's head after he was sprawled out on the ground, bleeding and weak, and some madness had driven Frank to get between the shooter's line of fire. He was wearing Kevlar, and whatever Red's fancy long-johns were made of, they weren't that good at stopping bullets.

Then, not a bullet but a needle stung his neck. Red had gotten to his feet by then and pulled Frank to cover. Frank thought he was paralyzed, but when Red smacked his face to snap him out of it, he realized that the touch didn't register. He told Red as much and didn't remember much of anything after that. Until he woke up.

"Poison? Someone wanted to poison you to not feel?" There was no question the attack was on Red; the darts hadn't started until Red was an unmoving target, and Frank was nowhere near the line of fire until he put himself in it.

Oddly, Red seemed to shiver. "Guess so." His voice was hesitant. "I think it's not just going to work itself out of your system. It did damage."

Frank couldn't feel it, but he was sure his muscles tensed. "You got a med degree I don't know about? Done some bloodwork? Why do you think that?" A dull panic was rising; Frank couldn't be handicapped. He couldn't live if he wasn't functional enough to fight and pull a trigger; that was what his life was now. More to the point, with the kinds of enemies he'd made, he _wouldn't_ live.

"I just do. And I'm all but certain I'm right."

Frank's temper rose. "Has someone tried this before? Why did someone decide to do this to take you down without killing you? What the fuck aren't you telling me?"

The Devil sat still for a very long time. Frank was ready to ask again when he finally spoke. He faltered at first, but his words were deliberate. "I-I'm going to trust you, Frank."

And the Devil of Hell's Kitchen reached up and removed the mask that hid his precious identity. Frank just stared at him, the face only vaguely familiar before his mind added a pair of sunglasses. "My blind lawyer?"

"Matthew Murdock. Nice to meet you again, Frank." The kid's voice thinly veiled a nervousness that made him seem even younger.

Frank hadn't fully caught up. "My blind lawyer. So, you're not really blind? An act to get sympathy from the judge and jury?"

Red's face sported a brief look of indignant anger before he smoothed his expression. "No. My eyes don't work." He pushed his helmet in front of Frank's face. "Is this made for visibility?"

The opaque eye covers always did make him look even more impossible and devilish. And, no, Frank realized, it did not look conducive to seeing things clearly enough to fight. "But you've kicked my ass. You're saying I got my ass handed to me by a blind guy?"

That brought a grin to Red's face. "Yeah, Frank, that's what I'm saying. To be fair though, for not being able to see, I'm not very blind."

"Damn right. I thought you were an impressive fighter for a regular guy. You really are a damn demon if you fight like that without being able to see shit."

Red frowned, as if he wasn't sure if that should be taken as a compliment. "If I could see, I couldn't fight like I do. Sight is a distraction."

People who lose one sense get their other senses heightened to compensate. Everyone always said that. But that wasn't compensating. That was super-powering.

"How? How do you fight; how do you live? I would be less surprised to learn that you are the Devil. Blind guys are at a disadvantage and need help to function." As a scowl grew on Red's face, Frank added, "You don't."

Red set aside Frank's opinions on the blind. "I have four other senses. I can hear things in a penthouse suite when I'm thirty floors below, in a busy lobby. I can smell that you had garlic the night before last. I can taste the coppery flavor of blood in the air. I feel slight variances of temperature and air disturbance."

Before Frank could call bullshit, Red added, "I can smell the toxin and hear it spreading through you, eating away at your nerves."

Frank imagined he would have grown cold at that announcement, but temperature didn't exist. And maybe it never would again. Rage and disbelief and horror fought for dominance in him. Damn Red for getting him involved, for this happening because Red's damn crusade earned him sadistic enemies. But all that negativity stopped a moment later.

"Thank you, Frank." Red's voice was quiet and humble, like he was in awe of what Frank had done. "Really, thank you. You saved my life."

Even as that calmed Frank down and metaphorically warmed him, Frank wanted to point out that he was exaggerating. Frank got hit, and he was alive. Horribly damaged, but alive.

And then Frank considered how this would have affected Red. Frank was in a blank hell from suddenly not feeling. He couldn't imagine not seeing as well. He'd be lost, with no one to guide and protect him. And given how Red had chased off his friends, he would be just as alone and helpless.

This was a well-calculated attack by someone who knew the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and all his secrets. And it was cruel. A man called the Punisher thought it was cruel. Whoever this was really hated Red.

If it had to happen to someone, Frank would pick a pedophile, not a bleeding-heart vigilante. And Frank would certainly never want it for Red in particular, who was already operating with one disadvantage Frank hadn't known about. "Just as well, Red. Take you down to three senses and you'd be screwed.

"Very." Those eyes that Frank had never really gotten to see before seemed to be focused on him, which looked a little eerie, and Red's expression was serious, but soft. "You're staying with me. I'll help you adjust, and hopefully we can find a way to fix this."

After the knee-jerk "Hell no, I don't need Red's help" response went through his mind, Frank quickly settled on the inevitability of it. The only thing that made it more tolerable was that Red hadn't said he'd take care of Frank. Frank could take care of himself. And Frank suspected that Red's words had been chosen accordingly to tip the balance towards helpful rather than pitying. Fucking lawyer.

(-)

Settling in was a process. After Red helped him relieve himself (which was humiliating, but less so than pissing himself), he settled Frank back on the couch. Red's first task was to get Frank's hands functional again. He made Frank watch his own hand as he instructed him to flex and stretch and make gestures. While it was mostly uncontrolled twitches and jerks at first, Red used his hand to move Frank's while Frank tried to follow the directions. After a minute Red let go and Frank kept moving. The movements were awkward and imprecise, but they were close to doing what Frank told them to. He wondered how long he'd been out that had given Red time to plan all this.

Red did the same thing with Frank's left hand, and suddenly both his hands were obeying his commands, if doing a shitty job of it. Frank felt a little hopeful, like maybe he wasn't going to be a useless piece of shit for the rest of his life.

"That's right, Frank; you can do this. You're a stubborn bastard. This won't slow you down for long, and we both know it."

The fact that Red seemed to know what Frank had been thinking was unsettling. Surely mind-reading wouldn't be a side-effect superpower of blindness? Frank thought back to all the things he had thought when he was out fighting with Red, and he really hoped he was wrong.

"Calm down, Frank; I don't read minds." That statement contradicted itself, and it was far from reassuring.

Red sighed and stilled Frank's hands. "We're probably going to run into a lot of personal stuff here, and I already trusted you with my identity." He scrubbed at his face with his hands. "I'm not used to pretending to be blind in front of you, and I'm not censoring my extra reactions like I normally would."

"Why would you have to pretend to be blind if you are?"

Red groaned a little, obviously frustrated. "You remember your blind lawyer, right? Cane, sunglasses, occasionally bumps into stuff, doesn't respond to physical gestures like nods or hands extended to shake?"

Frank nodded, which suddenly made him smirk because Red nodded back and continued. "Now you remember Daredevil? Incredible reflexes and fighting skills, dodges things from behind without looking, knows precisely where to shoot chains to free himself, hears children's rhymes murmured in a room while fighting men armed with guns in the hall?"

That last one really made sense now. Red wasn't actually the Devil. He was a weird-ass blind ninja with super-senses. "I remember. What's your point?"

The groan was less restrained now. Frank wasn't picking up the point fast enough for Red's liking. "The point is that that blind lawyer could never be suspected of being an ass-kicking vigilante. He bumps into doorways in unfamiliar places and knocks things over when he's feeling around for what he wants."

Frank suddenly understood. "But you always know where everything is, so you can walk normally. And you can find exactly what you're looking for without needing to see anything."

Red had a small smile touch his lips. "If the clumsy blind lawyer suddenly dodges something thrown at him that he has no way of anticipating, or if he accidentally reveals that he heard the conversation behind a closed door down the hall, it's obvious he's better than blind. I censor my responses to all the extra stimuli so no one can tell that I function on a level higher than sighted people. But I'm used to being Daredevil around you. I'm not used to pretending to be less than I am for your benefit."

"That's good. Don't," Frank said before his mind had a chance to weigh in.

Red looked surprised. "That's…rather accepting. I know I can creep people out when I let go of both identities. When it's known that I'm a blind man, and I don't hide my super-senses."

"You're a blind ninja superhero. Yeah, you're weird as shit, but also amazing. Who else knows about the real you and is creeped out?"

That startled a laugh out of Red, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not a hero. But Foggy found out about me. He sees my powers as invasive. Which they kind of are. It's why I was trying to assure you that I can't read minds even as I showed insight to your thoughts."

Frank looked at the man before him. His blind lawyer who had skipped out on most of his trial, but also the vigilante-nemesis whose presence had become essential to Frank's life and sanity. And this man was where those two different identities became one real person.

"So, you don't read minds; how do you know things? Tell me how you work, Red. You don't scare me."

A blinding, no pun intended, grin lit Red's face. Nelson must have reacted very badly if this was the response to his serial-killer enemy accepting him.

"We don't have time for a full explanation now; I'll just tell you as we go. But I have insight into people mainly because I can hear their heartbeat. It's an inadvertent reaction that can tell me a lot. And you should know that you can't lie to me. I can always tell."

Frank wasn't scared by that, not really, but it _was_ a little like learning someone could read your mind. The first things you think of are the things you don't want heard. Well, Frank was struck by all the things he would need to lie about to Red, and the danger now that he knew he couldn't. It excited him. He was a crazy self-destructive bastard, after all.

"I guess that means you think that's cool?" Red asked after a few moments of silence. He wasn't hiding what he could sense about Frank from Frank, but he obviously wasn't sure if he should have told him all that truth at once.

Frank huffed out a laugh. "Like you read my mind, kid."

Red chuckled. "Keep working with your hands. Five, then 'okay', then the surfer thing with the thumb and pinkie. First right hand, then your left. Keep alternating between the two. I'm going to change and then get some food ready."

As Red moved off into the bedroom, Frank wished he could sense heartbeats. Red looked excited and pleased. Frank dutifully worked on his hands, and when Red came back out he was wearing sweats and a t-shirt. He looked…nice. Not that his little lawyer suits looked bad, and not that he didn't somehow manage to pull off the ridiculous costume. But this was more casual, more real. Not a lawyer, not Daredevil. Just himself.

He was carrying the costume though, and after grabbing the mask that still sat next to the couch, he took them to a storage area. Inside, he opened a trunk, pulled out a false bottom, and stowed the costume away. He replaced the false bottom, closed and locked the trunk, and then locked the door to the storage area.

"Keep going, Frank," Red said as he moved past the couch into the kitchen area.

Frank hadn't even noticed that he'd paused. Well, of course he hadn't. He couldn't feel anything he was doing so if he wasn't paying attention and watching his fingers move, they likely wouldn't. Pain in the ass.

Red could obviously sense his frustration because he said, "It'll get better. Even if you don't feel, your body has muscle memory. But your muscles have been weakened, your nerves stripped away, and there are other problems we haven't even touched yet. Your body _can_ work like it should. You just have to regain your strength and retrain yourself to overcome the fact that your body relies heavily upon tactile feedback to function."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Sunshine. And after all that we hug it out and talk about our feelings, right?"

He still couldn't see Red, but he heard him snort. "Why? You looking for that, Frank? Your hair is too short to braid, and I'd be a poor judge of what color of nail polish would complement your eyes."

That made Frank laugh, more freely than he had in a while. Red joined in, and it was a much more pleasant atmosphere surrounding them. When they calmed, Red let out a satisfied sigh. "See? However much we love to beat each other up, we can still get along. This won't be so bad."

"So we sing 'Kumbaya' after dinner, right?"

"Shut up and concentrate on making your hands work."

(-)

 **First chapter. Was it fun? Frank is a bit squishy, but he's also recognized that Matt is important to him. I chose to use Frank's perspective since he definitely doesn't know all that's going on, especially with his new problem, and Matt knows everything. Also, I just love Frank wrestling with the fact that his blind lawyer is Daredevil.**

 **The physical therapy is absolutely me just trying to invent plausible exercises to help Frank.**

 **I'd love to hear feedback, if you have a minute.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Must. Keep. Writing. So much of the smut is planned, but I have to work my way there.**

 **You may or may not think Matt is a bit too vicious in one bit of this chapter, but I think if Matt got there during the act, he'd let out more Devil than usual.**

 **Standard medical disclaimer that I'm guessing/speculating/inventing.**

 **Also, not sure if there is a magic spice to make plain tuna taste good. I feel like texture would be more of an issue. But I doubted Matt has Jello or pudding or oatmeal lying around. Canned goods seem more likely.**

(-)

When Red set a bowl of tuna with a spoon next to Frank, he was immediately annoyed. "Teeth didn't fall out, Red. I'm not a baby."

Red was eating from his own bowl. "Never said you were. It is, however, incredibly easy for you to bite your tongue or stab your mouth with a fork and not know it. Figured we'd start with minimal chewing and blunt utensils your first day."

Frank also realized that this was a test to see how much fine motor control he had regained, and a fork could definitely be a danger with the elements of unsteady hands and difficulty judging the amount of force exerted to move things. Red wasn't being patronizing; he was being practical.

It still bothered him how much thought Red already seemed to have put into all of this. Considerate but not condescending. Helpful but not babying. He helped Frank sit up without a word and put the bowl and spoon on Frank's lap. Then he just sat back and watched Frank.

Fuck, Red wasn't watching. It was hard to grasp him being blind when he was so aware of everything Frank did, and his face and useless eyes were pointed Frank's way so attentively.

Speaking of attentive, it said something to his distraction, even with the lack of touch, that Frank hadn't noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Weird. Maybe he was bleeding and Red patched it up while he was out.

"Say whatever you're thinking, Frank. I know you want to." Red seemed casual about it. He definitely wasn't hiding his reactions from Frank.

Frank picked up the spoon with halting motions and attempted to scoop tuna onto it instead of answering. He knocked the bowl hard enough he thought it would spill, but it didn't. When he tried to put the food in his mouth, however, he heard the spoon click on his teeth and saw tuna smash in and around his mouth. He growled in frustration and humiliation as he tried to eat what had made it into his mouth. He apparently couldn't do that right either.

"Frank, you bit your cheek." Red was carefully cleaning up the excess tuna.

"How do you know that?" Frank needed to start demanding specific answers until he could figure out how Red worked.

"I can smell the blood. Left cheek, right in the middle."

That was specific. Fucking magic blind ninja. Only then did Frank notice the taste of blood. The tuna was actually very good; he had no idea what Red seasoned it with to make it not taste like shit.

Red took Frank's bowl and spoon. "I know you won't let me feed you, so Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Frank asked, certain he wouldn't like the answer.

After dumping the rest of Frank's tuna into his own bowl, Red took the empty bowl and spoon back to the kitchen. He came back with a protein shake and a straw. "Sorry, but this is what we're going with today."

Frank took it without protest. At least he could hold onto the bottle reliably and get the straw in his mouth with decent accuracy. Didn't taste too bad. Chocolate.

"So, that thing that you want to say that you don't want to say?" Red prompted him with a smile.

Rolling his eyes, Frank decided to answer. "You've put a lot of thought into this already, Red. How long was I out?"

Red pointed to the window. They had been fighting at midnight and the sun was barely brightening the sky. "A few hours. And I'm familiar with what senses I have left, so it isn't hard to imagine the problems that would come with losing them. I did try to help, though. An herbal remedy designed to combat most toxins. It slowed it down, at least."

The herbal shit taste. That explained it. "So, in your expert non-doctor, blind ninja opinion, is the damage reversible?"

Red's face grew serious. "I don't know. I hope so. I have some calls to make, some people to see about possible therapies or cures."

"What will you tell them when they ask why a blind man wants a way to make someone feel?"

That put a smile on Red's face. "I'll say it's for a friend. I just won't mention that my friend happens to be the Punisher."

What the fuck? Did Red just call Frank his friend? Maybe he just meant it as an expression, part of the cover story. Because no way did the high-and-mighty Daredevil think that Frank was worthy of friendship. Especially given their habit of beating each other up.

"Should I not call you my friend?" Of course, Red caught onto his panic. "Even the lowest description you could give of us is frenemies, right? Nemesis hardly seems to feel right anymore. You took a debilitating poison for me; I'd call you a friend."

Frank didn't know what to say. Frank was a murderous monster, one Red had scorned repeatedly. Of course, there had been more preaching about the good in him nowadays. But Frank hadn't stopped killing people. He was still a monster.

"Put it this way: do you not _want_ to be my friend?"

"I-uh…" Frank cleared his throat. "I guess it's okay. I don't…"

When Frank never finished his thought, Red shrugged. "It's not a big deal. Look, I-" Red suddenly stilled and tilted his head. Then he raced to get his costume.

"Is Timmy down the well?" Frank asked, unable to restrain himself.

"No, a little boy is cornered in an alley by a man. This isn't going to happen." Red was frantically changing.

That sobered Frank instantly. "Fuck no, it won't. If I could use my gun right now, I'd-"

"There are worse punishments than death, Frank. There are more fitting punishments." Red put on his mask.

"Not for that scum. He needs killing, Red."

"We'll see," was all Frank got before Red left via the door to the rooftop.

In the sudden silence and emptiness of Red's apartment, Frank was acutely aware that if something happened to him, or if someone wanted to kill him, he'd be unable to help himself. He could easily die while Red was off wasting time beating scumbags instead of killing them. Although even Red's brand of justice was preferable to just letting the kid get molested or raped.

(-)

Frank waited as patiently as he could until the sun was up, and he could hear the noise of everyday people going about their lives. Red should have been back by now. Frank decided to see what he could do.

Red had sat Frank up on the pillow behind him, and Frank took the opportunity to sit up straight. He went toppling off the couch. Damn it. But, by God, he got his arms underneath him to push himself up…and they collapsed. Cursing Red the whole way, Frank managed to get himself upright. He relished the little achievement right up to the point where he fell backwards and hit his head on Red's coffee table. He only knew that he hit his head because of the sound of impact and because it sent him rolling sideways instead of just back.

Frank finally decided to just see if he could lean back on his elbows, which actually worked for a while. He had just collapsed from that position when he heard the door to the roof open. "What the hell, Frank?"

Red came down the stairs, looking unharmed (no surprise, child predators were fucking cowards) and irate. "Your head is bleeding! Where did you think you were going to go?" Then his face fell. "Damn it, I forgot to make sure you had what you needed before I left."

Leave it to Red to make Frank dragging himself around and further injuring himself somehow Red's fault. "I didn't need anything. And damn right you shouldn't wait when a kid is in trouble."

Now Red looked angry again, and he took off his mask. "Then why would you hurt yourself like this?"

"Believe it or not, Red, but I wasn't trying to hurt myself. I was trying to get my body to do what I told it to."

"But you should-" Red stopped himself, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I'm being honest, I know I'd be pulling this exact same bullshit. So I'll try not to get too angry. Let's get you fixed up."

And damn if Red didn't just drag him back to the couch and slump him somewhat awkwardly over the back, acting like Frank wasn't an idiot who didn't care if he got hurt. Frank was dimly aware of Red shifting his limbs so the position wouldn't be too uncomfortable, as if it mattered.

He heard Red settle behind him with the first aid kit. "You need a couple stitches. No need for anesthesia, if we're looking for a slim silver lining. Gotta clean up this blood first."

Red moved around the couch and got a dishcloth from the kitchen and ran some water over it. He came back and moved behind Frank, presumably cleaning blood. Frank realized that Red could be doing anything back there. If Frank couldn't witness it to confirm, Red could be feeling Frank up or taking bites out of his flesh.

That thought must have made Frank shiver because Red said, "What's up?"

Frank tried to glance in his periphery to see what Red was up to. To his surprise, it looked like Red was almost pressed up against him. He wondered how it felt to have someone that close not actively engaged in fighting. He couldn't remember anymore. He might never know.

"Stop moving your head." Frank's head was forcefully repositioned. Red must have started stitching. "So, you have an unpleasant thought. Care to share?"

Damn, Red was almost showing off now. Didn't mean Frank had to answer, though. He did anyway, without really thinking about it. "I realized you could be back there feeling me up or eating me, and I'd never know."

A very slightly husky chuckle was suddenly next to Frank's ear. Didn't matter that he couldn't feel the breath or perhaps a brush of lips; it was unexpectedly pleasant. "I don't suppose my assurance that I'm restraining my appetite is worth anything?" Red sounded genuinely amused, and Frank didn't think he realized how that sounded.

But Red obviously knew he was making Frank uncomfortable because his next words came from well behind Frank. "Good to go. Please don't try to move around when I'm not with you. I'm really good at stitches; I don't need more practice."

"Stitched up a lot of your own injuries?" Frank asked. He was still slumped over the couch, but he didn't want to ask for help.

"Some. And back when I was a kid, when I could see, I would stitch up my dad. That's where I first learned it."

The personal tidbit about Red was surprising. "Your dad run around in pajamas too? Teach you about non-lethal ass-kicking?"

Frank had hoped for a smile, but Red got very somber. "He was a boxer. He was killed not too long after I got blinded. I don't want to talk about it."

Fuck. Frank had just learned a lot at the expense of Red giving him access to old wounds. Red really did want Frank for a friend. "Fair enough. Don't suppose you'd like to get me repositioned and tell me why you're getting back in broad daylight?"

Immediately, Frank was moved back to his reclining position, with some extra fussing, he could see, about how his head was supported. And instead of the armchair, Red sat on the other end of the couch by Frank's feet. "Well, I had to talk to Brett when he caught me in the alley behind the police station, and given the state of the man, I had some explaining-"

"What state? What fucking slap on the wrist did you give him?" Frank's anger boiled up at the fact that the predator was still breathing.

Red actually had a little smile. "When I got there, and his pants were at his ankles, I knocked him down and gave him a few well-placed stomps. Since the little boy was crying and shaking with his pants completely off, it didn't seem unreasonable. Then I broke both his hands, thoroughly, as I explained that his actions were 'unacceptable' and he was going to give the police a full confession if he didn't want me coming back to break his dick. I knocked him out and tried to calm down the boy. I scared him at first, but then he hugged me and cried. Poor kid. But he walked to the police station with me while I carried the rapist. I told the kid to go in the front door and tell them what happened, and that the man would be in the alley behind the precinct. It was getting light, and I couldn't exactly take him inside myself. But Brett saw me, so I had to explain that there was a victim inside to file a complaint against the man. Then I had to explain what had happened to him. I gotta tell you, Brett wasn't too upset after he knew the whole story. The longest part was making sure I got back here without being seen."

Okay. Frank was actually pretty impressed with the level of vicious ruthlessness Red had shown. "'Unacceptable'?"

Red's pleased little smile became a full-blown grin. "I told him that he was a cowardly, worthless, sick piece of shit for trying to hurt someone who was still young, hopeful, and innocent. That the people who prey on children deserve to have every bone in their bodies broken, slowly, and be left to die."

Shit, Frank would have been turned on by that, if he could. He had told Red that they were the same, and he knew that they weren't, not really, but he was glad they had some points they could agree on.

Red's smile died a little, and he looked uncertain. "You like that I have the Devil inside me. You want me to become like you."

Frank chuffed out a laugh and shook his head. "You'll never be like me, Red. I know you well enough now to know that. You could go a darker path, but you'd never turn into me. I'm one of a kind."

That restored Red's smile a bit. "You definitely are. No one could replace you."

Metaphorical warmth spread inside Frank. Even if Red meant that Frank had a unique brand of homicidal crazy, there was fondness in the way he said it. "And about the Devil? Yeah, I like him. You wouldn't be you without him, Red." He half-hoped, half-didn't-hope that the unspoken, "And I like you just as you are," would go unnoticed.

But Red could read between the lines of fucking anything, obviously. "And that's what you like? That I'm an altar boy filled with darkness?"

Frank snorted at the reminder of the nickname. And, yeah, Red was special and extremely unique. "I called you a 'half-measure', Red, and maybe that's true. But the more I know of you, the more I think that you just have so many contradictions that make you who you are, you're something else entirely. A Boy Scout who has as many merit badges for violence as he does for helping little ladies cross the street. The bully who bullies bullies. The saint wearing the skin of the Devil." At this last one, Frank pointedly eyed Red up and down, assuming he could sense it. He could sense every other damn thing, including things Frank had thought he'd been hiding. "You have layers, Red. Too many for you to fit neatly anywhere black and white."

The look Red was giving him was unnerving, and, yes, the nonfunctioning eyes added to it. Red was looking at Frank like he actually _saw_ him. Frank had obviously just revealed way too much of himself. Because Red was staring right through to his soul.

Frank saw himself shiver. "Don't get me wrong, you're still a self-righteous asshole. I just understand better now why that is." Stop looking at him that way, Red, because even with numb skin, he obviously _felt_ it.

Red abruptly looked away. Fucking mind-reading ninja. "Frank…I'm glad we're friends."

None of that. "I'm still going to do what I do, Red. I'll still kick your ass if you try to stop me."

Red looked pleased with that announcement. "Who kicks whose ass is arguable for any given fight. And we wouldn't be who we are if we didn't do what we do."

When Red abruptly stood up and went to the bedroom, Frank suddenly felt cold. He didn't _feel_ cold, but obviously Red's presence warmed something inside him. "Let me change, and I'll get you settled. I don't know about you, but I need at least a few hours of sleep."

"Don't have work, Red?"

"Don't have a law practice anymore, Frank. I do online consultations and a lot of pro bono." Red was such a martyr.

Frank was in deep trouble being stuck here in close quarters with Red. He'd cared about the Devil for a while now. He could tell himself that shooting down ninjas when Red had been overwhelmed was payback for laying the Irish flat to rescue Frank. He couldn't make that claim about recently blowing a guy's head off from a few rooftops away because he had a gun pressed under Red's chin. Frank had been in deep trouble almost since he met Red. The kid made him act differently than he otherwise would. He wasn't supposed to care as much as he did about a pain-in-the-ass, bleeding heart vigilante.

After another trip to the bathroom, Red settled Frank on the couch and covered him with the blanket again. "Curious, Red, why did you take my shirt off?"

Red froze momentarily. "I was…experimenting."

That sounded suspicious as fuck. Before he could say so, Red said, "Don't look at me like that." Yeah, Frank couldn't see Red as blind anymore. He just had weird-looking eyes.

"You want to explain?" Frank asked. "Because it sounds like you were engaging in questionable activity, councilor."

Red actually blushed, which Frank found highly interesting. "Look, while you were out, I decided to experiment to see how thorough the damage was."

"I got skin on my arms, Red."

"The body has different concentrations and clusters of nerves in different places. I needed to check a couple of places."

"As long as you weren't looking for places to experiment in my pants." Frank grinned as Red got redder.

"Your torso provided an ample sample size." Red cocked his head. "You almost sound…hopeful, Frank. Were you wanting me to take advantage of you? Because you know I never would." It was part gentle accusation, part reassurance.

And, nope, Frank wasn't having this conversation. "Just teasing you, Red. Don't see you embarrassed very often."

Red smirked. "You're blushing too." Then he grew serious. "You do realize that I can read you, right? You told me you weren't afraid of me, so I'm not hiding from you."

And Frank _couldn't_ hide from Red. Whatever meager control he had that he hadn't realized had kept the Devil at bay, he didn't have it now. He didn't know how to use it, or if he needed to use it. He might as well be fucking naked.

Red was suddenly sitting on the coffee table near his head, slowly reaching, so Frank could see, and placing a bare hand over his heart. "That wasn't a threat, Frank. It wasn't meant to taunt you. Just…you told me I didn't have to hide from you. You're probably regretting that now. Foggy got freaked out for a reason, I know. I'm just saying…you don't need to hide from me if you don't want to."

Frank _needed_ to, though. And, yeah, he kept getting a better and better idea of why Nelson found the Devil's senses intrusive. But, fuck, it wasn't like Red could put in earplugs or block his other senses. And he hadn't seen Red use his insights to manipulate Frank. He used them, but not for bad things. When Frank was freaked out by Red's proximity, Red had backed off. When he knew Frank was having thoughts that were troubling him, he offered to listen, but only if Frank wanted to share. And when Frank had just panicked at the thought of Red knowing so much, Red was…what? Reassuring him, sure, but he was reaching deeper than that.

And Frank focused on what his being upset was doing to upset Red. He had told Red not to hide from him. But now that Frank needed to, really needed to hide from Red, it was painfully clear that he couldn't. Red wanted him to stop trying to hide. Because Frank hiding would mean Red was being intrusive by knowing what Frank had concealed.

"You don't have to hide, Red, just…" Frank was unsure what he could offer to solve this delicate problem.

"We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. If I ask, you don't have to answer. And if I say something a little too close for comfort…well, I'll know. And I can back off."

The rapid-fire solutions sounded a little desperate to Frank. Like Red was really worried about this coming between them. Hell, sounded like it played a big part in driving Nelson away. But Frank wasn't a mousey fucking lawyer. He could handle this, however he managed it.

"I'm not running away, Red. Besides it not being an option right now, you don't fucking scare me. Unnerve me, sure. But…" _I trust you_. Frank couldn't say it.

Of course, Red didn't need him to. "Okay. I just don't want to hurt you." The last two words were quiet.

And, wow, coming from a guy who habitually beat the shit out of Frank, that shouldn't have been as sincere or heart-warming as it was. Frank wasn't sure what to say. He settled on, "Night, Red. We can talk about our _feelings_ when we've both got some sleep."

Red lifted his hand from Frank's chest slowly and deliberately, which seemed strange to Frank. Frank couldn't feel it. So, was Red trying to prove he wouldn't take liberties with Frank's unfeeling skin? Or was it something else? Maybe touching Frank skin-to-skin was…intense for Red? No, that was stupid.

"Sleep well, Frank." Red retreated into his room and settled in his bed without further discussion.

(-)

Frank tried to sleep. But he couldn't shake the helpless feeling. If something wanted to hurt Frank, he couldn't stop them. If he was asleep when they came, his odds of survival went down even further.

"I'm keeping an ear out, Frank." Through the open door to the bedroom, Red spoke with clear confidence like he'd been sitting next to Frank hearing Frank voicing his fears aloud. "I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe with me."

In all honesty, Frank couldn't say if he literally fell asleep instantly after Red said that, but it was the last thing he remembered. That, and the instant security those words gave him. He trusted Red.

(-)

 **Got really mushy up in here, but hopefully you enjoyed it. Not sure if it's something subconscious, but this is pushing more quickly towards all the smut scenes my mind has been conjuring. Which works for me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Can haz smut? Maybe...but not yet. Oh, and Frank has given up saying that Matt isn't looking or staring or whatever. He's just assuming he can "see" everything. This could occasionally screw up his thinking, like assuming Matt can read a sign or something, or expecting him to know colors or whatever, but otherwise it is a decent assumption.**

(-)

"You aren't leaving, Frank." Red's tone was final, but he wasn't Frank's fucking dad.

"I walk and talk like a real boy now, thanks, Red." It was true. Frank hadn't needed Red's help to function almost at all for a week. He still had the occasional bout of muscle weakness, which was fucking aggravating, but he otherwise worked just fine.

"You don't _feel_ like a real boy, Frank."

"Thought you said you wouldn't grope me, Red."

It was always gratifying to make Red blush. He'd walked right into that one. But Red didn't return fire, at least not as much as he could. Red knew too much. He had had intimate access to Frank when Frank's guard was completely down, sending out every signal straight to Red's senses. Red had gotten unfiltered information for weeks.

Red knew everything Frank had tried to hide. But Frank only knew that because Red was careful to avoid certain topics or conversations. He didn't confront Frank, didn't try to make him admit to anything. He tried hard to give Frank at least the illusion of privacy. At least for Frank's biggest "secrets". Otherwise, Red was still a mind-reading magic ninja.

"You can't sense physical stimuli. You could burn or hurt yourself and not notice. Not to mention you aren't ready to mow through your enemies, if you encounter them. You…"

Red trailed off as he realized that reminding Frank of his being too weak to fight was not a good move. Frank was pissed off now and ready to charge through Red to get to the door, Devil be damned.

"It's my fault!" Red shouted as Frank prepared to do just that. When Frank paused, Red said, "This happened because you protected me. I was weak and wouldn't have been able to defend myself, and you saved my life. If you get killed or worse because you saved me, I'd never forgive myself."

"I'm not gonna be your new roommate, Red. This is supposed to be temporary."

"It is. I just need to find something to make you feel again. One of my contacts might actually have something. He supposed to get back to me today."

Frank thought about it. "We'll see. If your contact has something I can try, fine. If not, I'll go my own way until you do have something."

Red stared at him. "Fair enough. But if you leave and I sense untreated injuries or any severe damage next time I see you, you're coming back."

"Fair enough." Frank stalked off to the bathroom to splash what he assumed was cold water on his face. He'd trusted the labeling of the taps and hadn't gone wrong so far. Although Red bursting into his first unsupervised shower to stop the water that had been scalding him was a memorable incident.

It was getting a little claustrophobic living with Red. Frank knew that Red knew that Frank cared about him. The fact that this issue kept getting worse the more time Frank spent with the Devil was compounded by his proximity to the Devil informing the Devil of the whole thing.

Frank knew that he had to get some space between them before he did something crazy and stupid. Hence, his insistence on leaving. But Red was protective of him. And, damn it, he knew that Red cared about him too, although Red's eagerness to have a friend made it clear that any advances would only serve to make things really awkward.

When he got back into the living area, Red was settling his glasses on his face and grabbing his cane. "I'm going to go see what he has for me. Shouldn't be gone more than an hour. Call me if you need me."

Red had gotten a cell for Frank in case he needed something while Red was out. It had only been used once, but that was just because Red had stayed out past sunrise again. Frank hadn't wanted to call, but he was worried enough to get past caring if Red thought he was attached to the kid. Which he was, but he didn't want to advertise that to Red in flashing fucking neon lights.

Frank had gone a bit stir crazy with nothing but books in braille to entertain him, so Red had come home with some of the classics for Frank. How he knew that Frank enjoyed the classic literary canon was as much a mystery as everything else Red knew.

He was almost finished with "The Old Man and The Sea" when the door opened. Frank looked to find Red walking in, holding something covered by a brown bag, but not quite the right shape to be alcohol. A bottle, yes, but with something oddly shaped on top.

Red ditched his cane and glasses, and when the first thing he did was set the bottle on the counter in the kitchen and pour himself a finger of whisky, Frank knew something was wrong. "Well?"

Avoiding looking at Frank, Red threw back the whisky and said, "He thinks this will work, but you aren't going to like it."

Fuck. "I already don't like it, Red. What's so bad about it?"

A deep inhale and exhale before Red spoke was not reassuring. "It's lotion. But it has to be massaged into the skin."

"There are definitely worse things than a back massage, Red."

"No, Frank. It has to be massaged into the skin that you want to regain feeling in. All of it. Everywhere."

Oh, fuck no. "I can do that myself. You can do my back that I can't reach, and I'll get the rest."

Red shook his head. "It's not just rubbing it in. It has to be applied in a certain way. I'll know how to apply it where. You won't."

Fucking magic ninja. "We can't do this, Red."

A helpless shrug. "I can't make you do it. But I'm willing to do it, if it will make you feel again."

Why was this the solution? Of course, who was to say that it would work? "It might not work, Red. Not going to dive into this blindly." Red didn't even flinch at his use of the word.

Red tilted his head, considering. "You're right. We should test it. Lay down on the couch and give me your arm."

That was tolerable. Frank obeyed, and Red sat on the coffee table and pulled Frank's arm closer to him. He had set the bottle, sans-bag, beside him. It was a dark brown bottle with a soap dispenser top. Barely discernible black patterns decorated the outside.

Red squirted some onto his hand, and even from where he was, Frank could smell the sweet and spicy fragrance it gave off. Red smoothed it over Frank's forearm and started working it in. He was concentrating, using different motions and pressures with his hands.

And it happened. Frank felt something. He couldn't feel the touch like he normally could have. It was like being touched through a thick sheet of plastic. More vague pressure than anything. But as the touch covered the same area over and over, the plastic seemed to grow thinner. The touch grew softer, warmer.

"It's working." Red said.

"How do you know?"

"You're getting excited the more I work it in. You can feel it, right?"

Frank _was_ excited. It almost felt like normal contact. "More and more. I can fucking _feel_."

"Thank God. I don't know what I'd do if you were permanently damaged because of me." The relief and subtle fondness in Red's voice brought Frank back to the new, uncomfortable reality of Red giving this treatment, which felt highly pleasant on just his arm, to his whole body.

"It'll be okay, Frank. You know you can trust me. I'm your friend; I'll help however I can."

Fuck, surely Red wasn't that innocent. But, damn, he sure sounded like he was. His voice was hesitant, sweet, and reassuring. "I trust you, just…this is fucking awkward."

Red shrugged. "Yeah. But I'll do anything to make you feel again. I promise."

How was Red okay with this? Promise or not, he seemed unphased. Maybe because he wouldn't be the one exposed and left raw, nerves ready to be manipulated. Frank couldn't do it. Red already had way too much of him. He had felt naked to Red's senses before; no need to make it literal.

"Again, I can't make you. But you want to feel again, don't you? And it's not like I'd see-"

"Don't bullshit me, Red. We both know you see more than anyone whose eyes work."

Red frowned. "I was going to say, 'And it's not like I'd see anything bad.'"

Fuck fuck fuck. Don't say shit like that, Red. "That's…that's not the point."

Red stood up and walked back to the kitchen. "You can't wash that for a few hours."

And with a pins and needles sensation, his skin was growing number. "It doesn't last anyway."

Red sighed. "Multiple applications. It needs to soak in over and over to help restore your damaged nerves."

Multiple applications of Red's hands over his whole body. Fucking slow, deliberate, applications. However badly Frank wanted to feel, he was pretty sure what Red was describing would be the death of him.

"You want to fight again, Frank. You want to be independent. You want to run around on rooftops with guns making every person stupid enough to commit violent crimes in Hell's Kitchen fear for their lives."

"Thought you didn't like what I do, Red."

"I don't. But I know it's important to you. Besides, how am I going to stop you from killing people if you can't do it in the first place? How are we supposed to kick the crap out of each other if you never feel again?"

Frank laughed. He laughed longer and harder than he meant to. Red knew him so well. And these weren't even things he'd learned with super-senses. He just knew Frank. Fuck, Frank loved Red.

And his laughter died. He did not just think that. It didn't happen. That wasn't possible.

"Whatever has you panicking, calm down. I'm a little worried you're going to have a heart attack. Nothing can be _that_ bad." Thank God Red couldn't _actually_ read minds.

"Shut the fuck up, Red."

That just made Red sigh again. "Frank, please. Whatever you're so scared of, you have me. I'll stay with you; you're not alone."

Fuck him sideways, Red knew just what to say. And he was never trying to manipulate; Frank could tell. He wanted to fix Frank, but right now he just wanted to assure Frank that Red was his friend.

Frank scoffed. "Who's to say you aren't the problem?"

Red tilted his head curiously. "You said. You aren't fucking scared of me. Prove it, Frank."

Frank did say that. But this wasn't about Red's magic ninja senses, this was about Red. He didn't want Red to hide himself, although he appreciated the illusion of privacy Red allowed him. It wasn't about that. He loved Red for who-

No. Not again. This was about ripping off his skin and letting Red really "see" all the things he could only hear and otherwise sense. This was about Red getting the power to hurt Frank, even if it was a power Red didn't want and wouldn't use.

"We can apply our policy. If you get uncomfortable and want to stop, say so, and I will. I can even leave if you want. I don't want to hurt you, Frank."

There was the mind-reader. And just like the first time Red suggested "policy", he sounded slightly desperate. He wanted to do this for Frank, and he was afraid of what it would mean if Frank didn't trust him to do this.

And, again, the distress of the Devil decided it. "Fine. How we doing this?"

Red straightened and moved back to Frank. "That stuff smells good enough that I'm okay doing this in my bed. The only place with enough room, anyway. You'll, um, need to take off your clothes. I'll go get some stuff, you can get ready."

Once again given the illusion of privacy, Frank went into Red's bedroom, where he'd only gone a few times before, and started stripping. He wasn't wearing a lot of clothing, so it didn't take long. Once he was naked, he felt exposed and awkward, so he figured he might as well get settled. He tentatively lay down on his front on Red's bed, and his sense of smell, which along with his others had gotten a modest boost at the loss of touch, was awash in Red. The bed smelled really good.

When he heard the Devil's footsteps, Frank tensed. "Calm down, Frank. It's just me. You trust me."

Interesting that it was no longer an assurance; it was a stated fact. "Yeah, I do, Red."

If Frank was being honest with himself, his panic wasn't all that necessary. Red knew about Frank. He pretended not to for Frank's peace of mind, but that didn't change the fact that he knew how Frank felt about him. And, actually, since Red knew that, maybe it said something that he was so eager to push this. But that was wishful thinking that would lead nowhere. Red wanted to fix him to alleviate his guilt and get his home and privacy back. And because they were friends. Nothing more.

But the revelation that Red was doing this even when he already knew how much Frank cared about him was reassuring. He wasn't afraid of Frank, either.

Red was in sweats and a t-shirt as he climbed onto the bed, putting a towel over Frank's ass, a formality, Frank supposed. Red set the bottle on the nightstand and straddled Frank. Frank must have tensed up, because Red said, "Relax, Frank. This is all supposed to happen. This is supposed to feel good. It's okay to feel good."

Fuck, Red fucking knew, didn't he? Of course he did. Red was giving Frank permission to enjoy all the touch and contact Red had to offer. Red got a squirt of lotion, and Frank could hear it being spread on his back and glances of Red rubbing it onto his shoulders. At first it was the thick plastic, and as the plastic got thinner, Frank's body started to open up to the sensation.

"Fuck." Frank hadn't meant to say it, but he was pretty damn sure that contact on his shoulders and shoulder blades wasn't supposed to feel that good. At least he hadn't moaned it, though it was a close thing.

"It's working. And it _does_ feel good, right? If this starts hurting or for whatever reason you want me to stop, tell me."

Red was such a good guy. Not just because he was a vigilante; whatever hat or mask he was wearing, Red was a good guy. But Frank couldn't answer him; not with all the inappropriate noises welling up inside of him.

"It's okay, Frank. Let go."

And with the mind-reader's approval, he couldn't keep all of it in anymore. He moaned, as gently as he could. "That's right. Relax. You're safe with me."

Red had gotten another squirt of lotion and sensation started returning to the rest of Frank's back. Red's hands were sinful, the way they moved and stroked and pushed. Frank realized he was breathing more deeply, and he was moving a little without meaning to. Fuck. A little shifting and a quick glance downward confirmed that Frank was hard. He was hoping that his inability to feel would save him that indignity, but no.

And, no, Frank couldn't let this go on. Fuck, Red already knew, which was bad enough. "Stop, Red. I can't…just stop."

Red's hands disappeared, and Frank wanted to cry. "Do you want me to go?"

 _No._ "Probably a good idea."

Red climbed off of him without another word. As he paused at the door, though, he spoke. "I'll go out for a bit. Don't wash that off for at least an hour. And…there's nothing wrong with you, Frank."

Fuck Red. He washed his hands and put on jeans instead of sweats and took his cane and glasses and left. Frank was sporting an erection he couldn't feel, a pleasantly tingling back that was fading back into numbness, and an aching hole in his chest that only the Devil could fill. Like Hell nothing was wrong with Frank.

(-)

When Red got back, Frank was calm, dressed, and reading on the couch. Red set a few novels down on the table next to Frank without comment. Fight Club. Moby Dick. Strangers on a Train. Frank wasn't sure why, but he suspected an agenda.

"Fight Club? Ain't that a movie?"

Red snorted. "Was a book first. I don't exactly have the setup to watch movies, for obvious reasons. The book will have to do." He set down his cane and glasses. "You'll appreciate the violence, I'm sure."

"Thanks, Red." It was for more than the books. Red respected his boundaries so thoroughly that Frank was pretty sure "patience of a saint" wasn't an inappropriate term for it.

"Not a problem, Frank." Red moved to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He waved it at Frank, who nodded, and Red grabbed another one. He handed it to Frank who already had the novel open. Red always put a receipt or ticket or piece of paper in the book before he gave it to Frank, so Frank wouldn't need to look for a bookmark. Red was too fucking considerate.

Red grabbed a book off his shelf and settled next to Frank. It wasn't the first time they'd just sat beside each other and read, but it was the first time when Red was so casual and comfortable with Frank after an incident like that.

After they'd been reading for a few minutes, Red said, "Maybe we could try again in a couple of days? See how you feel about it then?"

Frank stiffened, he saw, and forced himself to breathe normally. "Maybe."

Red didn't push, just went back to sliding his fingers along the bumps.

(-)

After finishing the three books in two days, Frank confirmed there was a fucking agenda. All three books had homoerotic undertones. And, yeah, Frank liked them all. He picked up on them all, without trying. Thanks, Red.

It was the first real manipulation Red had shown, and it wasn't even that overt. He just gave Frank books that he knew Frank would enjoy. The fact that each book had some hint of homoerotic content was calculated, but he hadn't forced Frank to enjoy that. Fuck. He couldn't even get mad at Red about it.

Red was trying to gear him up. Make Frank comfortable with queer feelings. Get Frank to _want_ to have Red touch him to heal him. It made Frank wanting Red's touch for more sexual reasons into a perfectly normal subtext. Red really was the Devil. Seducing Frank without trying to sexually seduce him. Just a side-effect.

"So, it seems like I've upset you." Red just stated the fact, didn't elaborate or try to add more insight.

Frank sighed in defeat. "You win, Red. We can try again."

And, fuck, if that didn't make Red grin like a pleased fucking cat.

(-)

 **Decided it was time for Matt to push a little. I actually wrote most of this from 3-7 in the morning. Including the actual smut for the next chapter. But it was too soon and sudden for it, so I added this bit (which was supposed to be in there anyway) and left the real scene for the next chapter. But hopefully the aborted attempt to fix Frank made for a good teaser.**

 **Also, haven't read any of those three books. I've seen Fight Club, the movie, of course. But when I looked up books with homoerotic undertones, they were on the list. Hey, Frank is even reading Moby Dick in the Punisher. Not like he doesn't have his own white whale anyway.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Can haz smut? Yes. Can haz. By now, Matt has opened up to Frank about his past, so any insights Frank has can be attributed to that.**

 **The lotion is super-special, obviously. And both of their conditions leave them extra susceptible to it. Guess I just like the idea of ultra-sensitivity. Hopefully also helps to explain the extreme vulnerability that would otherwise be very OOC.**

(-)

This time Frank stripped more swiftly and was more willing to bask in Red's scent that surrounded him. Red came back in quicker and settled in more swiftly. A squirt of lotion and Frank started to feel his shoulders again. Feeling started to spread down his back, and it was just as incredibly pleasurable as the first time. After lingering moments of skin to skin contact on his back, Red got more lotion and started to work down his arms.

This time Red made sure to hold Frank's hands to massage feeling back into them. Fuck, if this was how his hands felt, how would he feel when Red touched his cock? Because if Red wanted to restore feeling to all of him, he'd have to rub Frank's cock back into feeling. Fuck, he'd been trying to avoid that thought.

"Let's see how far we can get tonight. Just don't panic this time, Frank. I don't fucking scare you. You trust me." As always, Red knew what to say.

Frank was fighting back his moans again. Red knew that too. "I told you. Let go. It's just me here; you don't have to hide."

And Frank let out a pitiful fucking whimper that had Red making soothing hushing sounds. "That's right. Anything you feel. No shame."

Frank was breathing hard again; Red's tenderness in his ministrations and his reassurances were making him feel more intimate and aroused than the actual skin contact was, Frank thought.

And Red knew he was hard. But Red's hands didn't falter. He was fine with it. He even anticipated it.

That turned Frank on even more. Didn't matter why: Red wanted to touch Frank while he was hard. Frank had been trying to keep his noise minimal, but this revelation shredded his control. "Fuck, Red!"

He could hear Red chuckle a little. "Finally letting go. Good." Red reloaded and started on Frank's neck. "This is working. Just keep going."

Fuck. Red was basically telling him to get off. And even without being able to feel his cock, the rest of him that he could feel felt so good it might not matter. The noises were pouring freely from him now, and he realized that his hips were thrusting insistently against the bed. But still Red kept going. His skin was awash with feeling, and he felt Red's hands moving back to his back.

"Calm down a little, Frank. You're going to have trouble finishing, and you'll rub yourself raw if you don't slow it down." It was another low whisper in Frank's ear. He put conscious effort into controlling his hips. But with Red instructing him how to reach orgasm, it was a lot of effort.

"Got some thoughts about this, Red?"

"I can still read you. You can't feel your cock, but your body's instincts are centered around it."

"What are you suggesting?" Besides the fact that Red liked to monitor Frank's libido.

Red's hands slid as far down as they could on Frank's back. Frank saw Red reload and heard the towel moving. Red had lifted Frank and slipped the towel underneath him. A soft gasp escaped him as Frank started to regain feeling in his ass. Fucking Red was massaging Frank's ass, and if Frank wasn't mistaken, Red intended to use it to get Frank to orgasm. When Red's hands started to slide down in-between and Frank started to feel them there, he let out a moan worthy of a porn vid.

"Is this good, Frank? Is this okay?"

"Please, Red." Frank sounded pathetic, but it was how he felt, too. Desperate. He'd only fooled around with a male friend once, and they never got anywhere near this. Frank didn't think he'd enjoy being on the receiving end of anything, but fuck if Red wasn't changing his mind.

"You want it here?" A finger started circling his hole, warming and reviving it with each pass.

"Oh, fuck! Red, do it. Do it. Fuck, I feel close. I _feel_."

Red was quick to start prodding after that. There was a brief pause that made Frank let out some embarrassing noises, but when the finger returned it was slick. Didn't take long for it to start pushing in. Frank's body started jerking and what muscles he could feel got tighter. "Need this, Red. Please."

"You're almost there already. You need this badly. Go on."

The finger started fucking into Frank, and he was done. He let out a gasping moan. He couldn't feel the actual orgasm besides the taut muscles and rush of endorphins. That finger felt real fucking good, but Frank couldn't feel his cock spilling.

"That was fantastic. You feel relaxed now?"

Frank just hummed. He was practically melted into the bed. Until, of course, he thought of something. "You were trying to get this to happen from the start!" It sounded more accusatory than he intended. And seemed far too obvious in retrospect. Frank had just thought Red was _letting_ it happen, not _making_ it happen. Until right before Red started in on his ass, he was just reassuring and supportive in spite of Frank's arousal; after, he was encouraging and assistive.

"Of course I was. I can read you. And your body has been begging for weeks now. Just finally had an opportunity to help you."

Fucking what? "What do you mean, 'begging'?"

Red slid his finger out of Frank, and Frank shuddered. The hands returned to massaging his ass. "Erections. A lot of them."

Frank was certain he was blushing now, if he hadn't been before. "You mean that I've been popping boners without noticing. And you did?"

"Hard to miss. The most interesting was when I was telling you how I hurt that pedophile. That's when I realized you got off on the Devil in me."

Frank knew Red had known Frank's secrets and was pretending not to know, but he didn't realize Red knew secrets about Frank that Frank himself didn't know. Fuck, Red had him good. But given how accepting and slightly eager Red was about all of this, Frank wasn't sure he minded.

But it still wasn't a discussion he wanted to have. "We stopping, Red?"

"Only if you want to, Frank."

"Don't want to stop."

"Good. One minute." Red left to wash his hands and when he came back he had a fresh towel and a wet cloth. "On your side for a minute." And Frank watched Red remove the towel drenched in Frank's cum and carefully clean his stomach and wilted cock. And watching this matter-of-fact, non-disgusted display, Frank had to look where he had told himself not to.

Red was hard. He was straining the front of his sweats, and his cheeks were pink. Red was breathing deeper too. "Yeah, Frank. Did you think I was doing this and feeling nothing?"

Frank wasn't sure how to answer that without diving into deeper topics he wasn't ready to bring up yet. He didn't have to. Red just pushed him back onto his front and climbed over him again. Frank didn't know why, but the feeling wasn't fading like it had before. Maybe as long as it was still being applied, the effect was connected to keep all the affected skin active?

Whatever the reason, Red's hands smoothing his upper thighs and right under his ass, sliding down deeper and giving his balls some attention made his breath catch. "Red, that's-" Frank squelched down what he knew would be a very girly sound.

"No, Frank. I want to hear every fucking noise you make. I don't want you holding back, understand?" That was really aggressive coming from Red, and while it might normally piss Frank off, it was currently making him want to obey. Fuck, Red had him. And Frank didn't even want to try to escape anymore.

Red had given his balls a gentle squeeze for emphasis, eliciting a breathy moaning sigh from Frank that made him feel very un-manly. And Red groaned as he reloaded and moved further down Frank's legs. "Sorry, just…you sound incredible. I don't care if you don't like making noises like that; the fact that you do, and you'll make them for me is…" Red trailed off with a shudder that Frank heard more than felt.

Frank had Red too, didn't he? He hadn't wanted to believe that Red could feel this because crushing disappointment wasn't something Frank could survive right now, but Red felt it. He wanted this from Frank, _with_ Frank, too. Red's hands trailed down from Frank's calves to pay careful attention to his feet.

One side of Frank could feel, really feel, for the first time in weeks, and it felt incredibly good. He knew Red had teased him back to life, and Frank wanted Red's hands massaging Frank's cock until he came this time.

He knew Red would do it, too. He liked Frank's noises, he liked being the one to make Frank _feel_. Red knew he was special to Frank, and he wanted proof.

Frank couldn't tell Red that he loved him. But he'd let Red take every opportunity he wanted to make Frank show him. So Frank moaned, sighed, whimpered; whatever noises Red drew from him. And it was gratifying to make Red lose control too.

"Fuck, Frank. Fuck. On your back. Turn on your back; I need to touch you more." The words were swift and breathy, and Frank obeyed.

Now he could watch as Red got more lotion and massaged it carefully into Frank's chest. He started with his pecs, giving extra attention to Frank's nipples, which had Frank gasping and whimpering, his hips thrusting upward helplessly.

"Let's get all this upper part taken care of. Don't want to be distracted when we move downward." Red's hands smoothed up and down his neck, carefully traced his ears. Warm pleasure tingled through him. And Red leaned right up to whisper in his ear, "Talk to me, Frank. Tell me what you want, what you _feel_." He could feel Red's breath this time, that was for sure.

"Keep going, Red. Want to be ready for you to touch me and make me cum."

Red's hands quickly went to this side of his arms, thoroughly working more lotion into those and his hands again. "Hands feel good, Red."

"I'd suck your fingers if I wasn't concerned that would overwhelm your sensitive skin."

Frank inhaled sharply and whimpered. "This stuff edible?"

"Of course. I could taste it on the air since I first got it out of the bottle, and it's not bad. I could suck on you for a while, and I'd enjoy it for a few reasons."

"Fuck fuck fuck. Don't say that shit, Red."

"Why? Afraid you'll cum early? There's nothing wrong with it; your nerves are sensitive, even more than mine, in a way. You're incredibly receptive and weak for pleasure. No shame in being overwhelmed. Your stamina seems to keep up well enough."

Red was whispering in his ear again, and Frank's hips twitched upward. And Red was right, it had been quick and easy for Red to get Frank hard again. It wasn't stamina he normally had anymore. "You gonna overwhelm me, Red? Gonna make me helpless to resist you?"

Red gave him a sly smirk. "We'll see." Then Red got more lotion and started working his way down. Frank's hips kept moving as his eyes half closed and his breathing got even deeper. "Look at me, Frank."

Frank's eyes snapped open, glued on Red. Red was stroking Frank's pelvis right above his cock, and Frank was twitching with pleasure. "Please, Red. Fuck, please."

"You'd better watch, Frank. I want you to _feel_ your orgasm this time. I want you to watch me wreck you with pleasure."

"Fuck, yes. Do it, Red. I'm watching." It was a helpless whine, desperation in every syllable.

Red reached to get a big glob of lotion, made eye contact that suddenly had Frank shivering in a pleasant way, and wrapped his hand around the base of Frank's cock and spread it upward, hand closing over the head and applying gentle pressure. The feeling instantaneously returned here; no need for multiple strokes.

Frank jerked, almost there. Fuck, he was easy. And Red loved it. "It's okay. Cum all you want. I can just stroke you again and again."

"Fuck, fuck!" Red wasn't even moving his hand, just holding the head so very carefully. "Red, please. It's so fucking easy for you to do this, and I need it."

Red slid his hand down Frank's cock too swiftly to anticipate, and Frank came before Red got his hand back up. Frank was screaming from the pleasure flooding through him, and Red kept stroking, making it hard to stop. It was the longest orgasm Frank had ever had, and it was getting too intense.

But, of course, Red knew. He released Frank's cock, and Frank was left panting, boneless, covered in a gratuitous amount of cum. Red cleaned him off with the fresh towel. "Oh, fuck, Red. Fuck me, that was too fucking good." Some part of his brain not numbed senseless with pleasure noted that his statement was perhaps more honest than he was willing to admit.

And Red knew. "I think we should probably go slow with any actual fucking. But I'm certainly not against the proposition."

Frank realized something. Red was still hard, so much that it looked painful. "Gotta make you cum now, Red. Go on and show me what you got there."

Red blushed. After everything that had just happened, Red blushed. "I…my skin is already super sensitive, and I'm concerned that getting any of that lotion on my cock would…"

"Make you cum on contact?" Frank smiled. "What happened to no shame in being overwhelmed by sensitive nerves?"

"That's not, just…I can't."

After how comfortable Red was with Frank, all of Frank, his complete discomfort with his own body was telling. Of course, Red was a tender-hearted masochist. He'd accept everything grotesque about Frank while holding onto all kinds of shame about himself.

"So you're going to make me guilty of being selfish? Not letting you be the selfless martyr, Red."

"Frank, I just…it's not…please…"

Frank sighed. "Give me the real reason, Red. Tell me why I shouldn't make you scream and fuck you up with pleasure as good as you just did me. Trust goes both ways, and I can't hear your heart."

"There's a lot of reasons." Red was mumbling. Frank's whole body was still buzzing with feeling, except the front of his legs, and he used his dexterity to stroke Red through his pants. Red almost sounded like he was crying. It broke Frank's heart a little.

"Red, please. I got you. You say that you're here for me? Well, I'm not leaving you hanging either. You trust me, right?" And damn if that still being a question by now didn't hurt. Frank trusted Red far more than he'd ever trusted anyone.

"I trust you, just…"

"No, no 'just'. Do you trust me?"

Red shivered. "I trust you."

"Then tell me why you don't want this. You've done enough with me that I feel safe in assuming that I don't disgust you."

"You don't. And I do want this. But I can't…there's the scars for one."

Frank snorted. "You can't literally see them, but you've mapped out every scar on my body by now. The most difference we could point out is that you have more or fewer scars, or more or less interesting scars than I do. You're not fucking ugly, Red, with or without scars. Next reason."

And fuck if Red's eyes didn't start shining with unshed tears. "I don't deserve-"

Fuck that. Frank pulled Red down to kiss him, realizing that his face and mouth were still numb. Still, he kissed Red as gently as he could, and the way Red moved and a slight moan proved he at least wasn't hurting Red. When he broke them apart, he said, "Unless you plan to make that sentence 'I don't deserve someone as shitty as you, Frank,' I don't want to hear it. You deserve a hell of a lot better than me, Red. You have a lot of fucked-up ideas about yourself, but you know that I'm not lying to you."

"That only means you believe it's the truth." Red was sniffling a little. God damn whoever broke the Devil like this.

"And that doesn't mean something? Red, you're too good for all the shit you go through, and you're damn well too good for me. You haven't convinced me, and you know your weak arguments aren't going to. Tell me the real reason or shut up."

Red stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. "Fine. You know what? After everything else, you can't touch me because the fact remains that you're going to leave. You were desperate to leave before we found a cure. Everyone leaves. I'm sick of it, Frank." Red's voice had ice in it, and it was sharp enough to draw blood.

Well, fuck Frank for not thinking of that. Red's mom had left as soon as he was born. Red's dad got murdered and left him a blind little boy alone in the world. Red's asshole blind ninja teacher left because Red had fucking feelings. Red's friends had allowed themselves to be chased off or else left Red of their own volition. And Red's ninja girlfriend died in his arms. Yeah, of course Red had abandonment issues.

Frank opened his mouth, but Red cut him off. "Don't lie and say you weren't really going to leave. Don't bullshit me, because you know it's useless."

"Shut the fuck up. You don't know what I was going to say. Yeah, I need to live at my own place again. But you might recall that one reason that's necessary is because we can't fight each other if I'm here. I don't want to leave you, Red. I want to get back to where we were. Frenemies, friends that beat the shit out of each other, whatever. We both enjoy it."

And this was more than Frank wanted to say, but Red deserved it after all the patience he'd had. "And we both know _why_ I was getting so desperate to leave. _Why_ this cure had me so uncomfortable that you had to slip me books with gay subtext and sweet talk me through the whole thing to get me to do it. You've been really good about not talking about it, but you know."

Frank may have been pointing at the elephant in the room, but he didn't want to address it by name for fear it would crush him. It was up to Red to say it, or not be said at all. "You care about me. A lot." Red's voice was soft, cautious.

"I do, Red." Confirming was easier than stating it. "You've been fucking with me practically since we met. Little bastard. You make me act differently." It was more than Frank intended to say.

One corner of Red's mouth turned up. "You wouldn't know it, to look at you, at us."

"Any other vigilante got in my way, if they didn't need killing, I would have tied up and thrown somewhere random so they wouldn't be a problem. I chained you up to chat with you while I waited to take my shot. I told you to shoot me in the head and kill me, because I was all but certain you wouldn't. You've always been special, Red."

Frank saw Red shiver. It seemed worth it, to lay his cards on the table at last. Wasn't like Red wasn't using his senses as X-ray specs to see them anyway. "Red, I can't stay here with you. But that doesn't mean I'm leaving you. I…I need you in my life. You fix some part of my fucked-up brain. Fuck, Red, I'd be wrecked if you left _me_."

Red leaned in to kiss Frank, and even if Frank couldn't feel it, the fact that Red had initiated it made Frank feel good. In fact, Frank was losing feeling in his body again. "Let's get you off. Something; I'm fading. Wanna feel you cum tonight."

Frank tugged off Red's sweats as soon as Red nodded. He wasn't as hard after their conversation, but a quick stroke or two livened him up. "What's the plan, Frank?"

Most of the excess lotion was on Frank's cock. "Hands on my shoulders." Red obeyed, and Frank pressed Red against him, moving Red's hard cock against his limp one. And, fuck, if Red didn't come the second his cock hit Frank's lotion-covered one. He let out a loud, filthy moan as he thrust against Frank. Frank could feel the warmth of his cum. Red felt good.

Red wasn't able to calm until Frank moved him off of him, breaking Red's contact with the lotion and wiping what was left on Red's cock off. Red continued to twitch and moan, though, until Frank became concerned. "You okay, Red?"

"My skin's already super-sensitive, not numb like yours. That stuff…I think I might be broken." The fact that the end of that sentence was a moan made Frank think nothing too bad had happened.

"How about we give you a few minutes before we decide that? But it felt good, right?"

"Soooo good. Fuck, my brain isn't working."

It also made Frank wonder how pent-up Red was. "How often do you masturbate?"

Red didn't answer. Frank rolled his eyes. "I'll admit I don't find the need to very often. Although I've needed to a little more since I started encountering you."

"I don't have time for that."

"Look, sexual frustration might amp up the Devil's fury, but it's irresponsible to not take care of yourself."

"I take care of myself."

"Not if you're neglecting your needs. It sounds like you need someone to remind you of the right way to take care of yourself."

"Are you volunteering? Because I'm not sure you're up for it."

"Fuck you, Red; don't make me prove myself. I need to get my skin fixed, but I will show you a thing or two that will shut you up."

"You really enjoyed me taking charge."

"Doesn't mean I can't do it too. I will fuck you up, Red."

"You don't fucking scare me."

"I will."

"Not if I'm buried inside you, making you scream for me."

"…not then, no. But later."

(-)

 **Bickering about sex. Not sure why that happened, it just did. But hopefully amusing. And this chapter had twice as many direct addresses of "Frank" and "Red" before I toned it down. Shit, if my friends were reading this I'd make a Fushigi Yuugi joke.**


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